The Home For Wayward Princesses
by Ryosei Takashi Hime
Summary: Loss and sorrow finds Mulan wandering the world. A re-writing of my old Disney Crossover.


Sunset was nearing in a small French village, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets as men and women made their way home. The streets were just clearing when a strange woman rode through town in a rickety horse-drawn cart. The vehicle wasn't of French design at all, and it had apparently seen a lot of years. Its driver's head hung low with a strange, straw hat pulled down to hide her eyes. The stranger's dark, unkempt hair spilled out from under her odd hat, and when she looked up, a pair of dim, slanted eyes stared out at passersby sadly. Her attire made it apparent that the young foreigner was of some Oriental descent, which would make her the first traveler from so far away in decades. She had drawn much attention throughout the day, but she continued onward with drooped shoulders and a bowed head with no apparent notice of the people stopping on the side of the street to gawk. She kept her eyes firmly trained on the ground passing below her feet, ignoring a few questioning statements about her gender that wafted over to her from the crowds. She paid them no mind, keeping her weary eyes concentrated on the reigns in her hands. But as darkness settled in around her, she began to search the town for any sign of a tavern or inn where she might rest for the night. She saw one soon enough but did not stop. It was growing ever darker as the cart pressed on, creaking in the silencing evening. She passed another inn but still did not stop.

"Girl, we gotta stop somewhere," a voice grumbled from her shoulder. "I don't know 'bout you, but I'm gettin' splinters in my butt from sleepin' in this rollin' coffin."

Mulan's eyes wandered to her shoulder slowly to see the small dragon hidden in her robes glaring at her. Her expression brightened ever so slightly. The creases between her eyebrows smoothed out, and the corners of her mouth twitched. However, her eyes still retained a melancholy light. Mushu smiled regardless. He knew it was the best he would get from the inconsolable woman even after so many years. He was ashamed to admit that he was somewhat glad for the tragic event at first. Without Shang around he and his war hero spent so much more time together. The only downside? Mulan had suffered. She had fallen into a despair beyond retrieval. She would never be the strong, bright, young woman he knew and loved again.

"Wo jiang ting yu qici ke zhan," she muttered under her breath.

It wasn't likely that anyone would be too concerned about her words if they couldn't understand them. She was just a strange foreigner muttering to herself. It had its benefits. It made talking to Mushu easier. She had learned several new languages as she passed listlessly through the world. She wasn't fluent in most of them. She only learned what was necessary to get by with the locals. She only put forth the minimal amount of effort needed to survive. Sometimes, if she wasn't careful, she put forth less. But Mushu would always call it to her attention if she remained silent too long, when her stare grew distant and misty, when her progress became too slow. She was glad he had come along. Even glad he had suggested leaving China all together. She just had to keep moving, and someday things would get better. If she kept trying, things would get better.

She continued on until she found a small, rundown inn. As promised, she pulled on the reigns and the cart slowed to a stop. It wasn't much to look at, but it was probably cheaper than the others she had passed. She dismounted and tied Khan to a post next to several other horses. She didn't like leaving him alone, but she couldn't very well bring him into the room with her. She patted his face softly and whispered a few words of comfort to him before they entered the brightly lit inn. Mushu hid himself more carefully as Mulan approached the woman at the counter. His whiskers tickled the back of her neck, but her skin had grown so used to the touch that not a single muscle in her face flinched as the innkeeper greeted her. The innkeeper was an older woman with short, graying hair. She smiled politely at the young foreigner.

"Missy," Mulan muttered. "Small room, prease? No window."

Mulan had no problem with French, but she had discovered that speaking in what was known as pidgin got her where she needed to be faster. It didn't make much sense to her, but she didn't have the strength to bother questioning why. She only knew it worked. It was what was expected from her. It met with less resistance. So, she dumbed herself down for the westerners.

"We have a small room with a view of the alley. That stays pretty dark. Would that be fine?"

"Yes. I pay now?"

The woman looked at Mulan for a few moments that seemed to stretch on forever. Mulan could see the calculating look in the woman's eyes. But after taking a closer look at Mulan's worn clothing and filthy skin, the woman looked away. She wouldn't be able to get much out of this one. She lowered the price considerable and beckoned Mulan to follow once the few coins touched her palm. She would make the difference up when a more frugal nobleman passed through. She could afford the charity, for if she couldn't, such a pitiful yet beautiful expression would surely haunt her dreams for the rest of her natural life.

Mulan followed the woman up a flight of stairs with slow, heavy feet. Her shoulders were stooped and her head remained lowered, weighted down with years of sorrow. When the woman looked back to check on her, it almost hurt to see such a defeated posture. She waited for Mulan at the top of the stairs patiently and felt her heart cry out for the stranger. She took Mulan's hand softly when she reached the top stair. Mulan looked up at the sudden touch. The woman turned her hand over and placed the coins back into her palm, gently closing Mulan's fingers around the coins. Mulan could see tears in her eye, and she looked away at the sight, Mushu shifting uncomfortably in her robes. She knew he was anxious to get some fresh air, so she didn't argue as the woman released her hand.

"You can have this room, dear," the inn keeper said, opening a door to the right. "It's bigger than the other, and the window's smaller."

"Thank you very much," Mulan whispered, bowing as low as she dared for fear Mushu would slip out of her robes. "Missy is so kind."

"It's fine, sweetie," she replied, smiling. "Come down for breakfast before you leave tomorrow."

Mulan bowed again as the woman left. She watched her go with sad eyes, shamed at the pitying look she had received. But she was very grateful for her kindness. She had so little money left as it was. She would have to search the town for a job tomorrow before she moved on. To what, she still did not know. It had been years now, and still she had no destination. She sighed as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. She lit a candle on the side table and sat upon the soft bed limply.

"Cheer up, girl," Mushu chirped, slipping off her shoulder and onto the night stand. "Hey, look how far we've come. Saved the country, now you're travelin' the world. This is the -"

"I'm tired, Mushu," she interrupted quietly, falling to her side.

Mushu looked slightly hurt as she turned her back to him and pulled her legs up to her chest. He wasn't as hurt for himself as he was for her. She was still having a hard time getting over the loss of Shang. He couldn't blame her, but he found himself missing her old attitude. This sorrow thing really didn't suit her personality. He knew she could move on emotionally if she would just stop moving physically, but she wouldn't settle down. He wished he'd never suggested leaving China at all. They could have gone back to the Fa family home, and she would have gotten over it in no time. But, no, Mushu had to come up with the brilliant idea of moving somewhere new to get her mind off of him.

"Smooth move," he muttered to himself, running a claw over his head.

He hopped onto the bed beside her and placed the claw on her head lightly. She didn't respond though he knew there was no way she'd fallen asleep so quickly. He stroked her long black hair in a fatherly way and watched the back of her head. He wanted her to be as she once was. More than anything in the world. He stayed that way, watching her pretend to be asleep, until her breath evened out at last. He gave her head one last pat and kissed her hair gently before curling up on the pillow beside her. But he could not enjoy the rare comfort as well as he would have liked, knowing Mulan was probably having nightmares as she shifted restlessly next to him.


End file.
